Detentions from Hell
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: Harry and Ron must serve one week of detention with Professor Snape in the Potions classroom. Set at the beginning of Harry's third Hogwarts year. The only thing on which Ron and Snape agree is: Detentions from Hell. Completely AU, partly OOC, sick!Harry


**Detentions from Hell - by Healer Pomfrey  
**

Unbeknownst to Harry Potter, who had obviously enjoyed spending the last two weeks of his summer holidays before his third Hogwarts year gallivanting Diagon Alley, Professor Dumbledore had instructed Severus Snape to stay close to Harry and guarantee for the boy's safety during the two weeks.

How and when Severus would be able to prepare for his classes? Oh well, the Headmaster was sure his 'boy' would manage without problems. When would he brew the potions for the hospital wing? Ah, Severus had never disappointed him.

Now that the boy had finally boarded the Hogwarts Express, Severus returned to Hogwarts right away, knowing that he still had to brew one dozen potions until the students would arrive at the castle in a few hours' time.

Unfortunately, he had only just begun the second round of brewing four potions simultaneously, when the Headmaster's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Severus, my boy, I urgently need to speak with you about something," the Headmaster said pleasantly, causing Severus to groan inwardly.

'_I'm sure this will be about his golden boy again_,' he mused as he strode through the still empty halls towards the Headmaster's office.

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Harry sighed in relief as he trailed along behind his friends through the huge entrance doors. '_Thank God we're back at Hogwarts_.' However, before he could really relax, his Head of House called Hermione and him into her office, and Harry realised in shock that she had called Madam Pomfrey in order to have the Mediwitch check on him.

'_I can't have her cast a diagnostic spell on me_,' Harry thought, beginning to panic. '_What if she notices..._'

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the Mediwitch entered the office; however, Harry managed to firmly assure her that he was fine, and a little while later, he was allowed to leave. '_Thank God_,' he thought as he went to bed that night. '_I still feel worse than before I met the Dementor though. I wonder why I'm feeling so strangely_.' Ever since the beginning of the summer holidays, his limbs had been sore, no, not really sore; it was more a tickly feeling that ran through his body, and he somehow didn't feel overly well. Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't running a temperature, but neither at the Dursleys nor at Diagon Alley had he access to a thermometer, so that he wasn't sure about it. Tonight, he felt definitely ice-cold and went to bed as soon as the Gryffindors finally entered their common room.

Harry's first day of classes passed uneventfully until his last afternoon class: Potions. '_Our last class for today_,' Harry thought in relief as he walked down to the dungeons together with Ron and Hermione, realising that he felt extremely tired and not really well. '_Well, I'll just have to get through Potions_,' he thought in determination, knowing that he definitely didn't want to spend quality time in the hospital wing.

Unfortunately, the tickly feeling in his right arm became so painful that he could hardly lift his arm and wasn't fast enough to stir his potion, causing the dark green liquid to let out an angry hiss and explode.

"Potter, you dunderhead! Detention tonight at seven o'clock!" the professor bellowed, before he waved his wand at Harry's cauldron, casting the _Evanesco_ spell.

"But Professor," Ron protested in a loud voice. Hermione and he, especially Hermione of course, had noticed earlier that Harry seemed to have problems with his arm. "That wasn't Harry's fault. It's unfair to give him detention..."

"Oh no, of course not. I realise that it was the Minister of Magic, who caused him to make his potion explode," Snape sneered. "Mr. Weasley, you may join your sidekick in his detention tonight."

"But Professor," Harry protested weakly. "Ron didn't..."

"Additionally ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Be my guest."

Ron angrily mumbled something about "Greasy git" to Harry, causing the professor to stride through the classroom. Standing in front of the two third years, he shouted, "Weasley and Potter, one week of detention for your insolence."

Hermione, who was sitting on Harry's other side, calmly laid a cool hand on his left arm. "Don't say anything else. He'll only end up taking more points," she whispered softly, causing Harry to nod.

"Yes sir," Harry replied to the teacher, who turned on his heels and strode back to the front of the classroom, hissing more _Evanesco_ spells at Ron's, Neville's and Dean's potions as he went.

When the class was finally over, Harry followed friends back to the Gryffindor common room, knowing that he had to get a head start on his homework if he had to serve detentions for a whole week.

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione queried, giving him a sharp look.

Only now, Harry realised that he was supporting his achy right arm with his left hand as he tried to write his Transfiguration essay as quickly as possible. "Yeah of course," he replied busily, "I'm just a bit tired, but I have to get on with this, considering that we're going to have detention every night."

"That's true," Hermione sighed. "Ron, you should know by now that you must keep your tongue in front of Professor Snape."

Harry tuned his friends out. '_I have to get this finished now. I won't be able to do anything but sleep after our detention_.' Not feeling hungry at the least, he skipped dinner and met with Ron in the entrance hall right in time to head to the dungeons.

"Potter, Weasley," the professor greeted them coldly. "Give me your wands. You'll clean and re-organise the potions cupboard over there. Afterwards, the whole classroom including the tables and chairs needs to be cleaned. You'll find the necessary tools in the cupboard over there."

"Yes sir," Harry replied automatically and handed his wand over. He had just done a few steps into the potions classroom when Ron's upset voice could be heard from the teacher's office.

"What do you mean hand over our wands? How are we supposed to clean that thing? Even with a wand I don't know how to do that."

Harry turned around. "Ron, it's all right, I'll show you," he said weakly, but the professor already saw red.

"Don't tell me you're as pampered as your sidekick. With seven children your mother will certainly occasionally require your help," he said in a dangerously quiet voice, raising an eyebrow.

"No, my mother always cleans everything with cleaning spells," Ron talked back.

Harry stepped nearer, laying a hand on Ron's arm. "Come Ron, let's just begin," he said pleadingly, sighing when he felt himself completely being ignored. '_All right then, I can do it on my own_,' he thought and made a bee-line for the cupboard.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, and each minute you delay beginning your work will be another point," the teacher hissed, causing Ron to grudgingly hand over his wand and follow Harry, who had already prepared a bucket with soap water and a sponge for Ron.

"Here, you can clean the tables," he suggested, knowing that it was the easiest and least strenuous work they had to do that night.

Ron grudgingly agreed and obediently began to wipe the tables, while Harry busied himself pulling everything out of the cupboard and scrubbing the shelves, which at some parts were extremely dirty. Somehow, he felt relieved by the work he had been assigned. He was used to clean and to do chores like this even when he was feeling under the weather. '_It's better to do this here all on my own than to have to listen to Ron's and Snape's bickering all the time_,' he thought as he professionally cleaned the shelf.

"Finished," Ron said at some point, causing Harry to look up from his work.

"Good," he said thoughtfully. "Would you perhaps mind cleaning the chairs as well?"

Ron let out a long sigh. "Don't you think we've done enough?" he asked incredulously. "Snape should ask a house-elf to clean the classroom. It's nearly curfew anyway. I'll go and ask him if we can leave."

Harry shook his head in exasperation as he returned to his task. '_I hope he'll let us go soon though,_' he mused, feeling extremely tired, sore and cold. From the Potions Master's office he could hear the professor taking more points of Gryffindor, but finally the professor called out for him. "It's enough for today Mr. Potter. Come back tomorrow at seven o'clock."

Harry dragged himself back to Snape's office. "Excuse me, sir, but I took the ingredients out of the cupboard in order to properly clean the shelves, but everything is still lying on the floor."

"And?" the professor drawled.

"And? Won't that be a problem in class tomorrow?" Ron angrily returned the question.

"Did you finish cleaning the shelves, Mr. Potter?" Snape queried, raising an eyebrow.

Harry averted his eyes to the floor. "No sir, not yet. Some of them were very dirty, sir."

"Perhaps you could help a bit with magic?" Ron suggested boldly.

"Is it all right if I finish the shelves tomorrow?" Harry asked in a soft voice, glancing up at the professor.

Snape's face was void of emotion as he replied, "Very well. See to it. I can understand that it must be hard to work after two month of being able to do as you wished."

By now, Harry was slightly shivering from the cold air of the dungeons and felt too bad to protest. "I'm sorry sir," he merely replied in a small voice.

"Sorry?" Ron exploded. "What do you have to be sorry for? At the Dursleys, you had to work like a slave, and at Diagon Alley you were busy doing your homework! When have you been able to do as you wanted?" Turning to the professor, he insisted, "I couldn't do what I wanted either. I had to de-gnome the garden every now and then, and I had to do all these stupid summer assignments."

"Professor, may we leave for today please? I promise I'll try to work harder tomorrow," Harry spoke up, throwing the professor a pleading look.

"Don't be late tomorrow," Snape replied and returned their wands without further comment.

Harry slowly dragged himself back to Gryffindor, feeling extremely grateful that Ron patiently waited for him.

"Harry, what's wrong? Are you feeling all right?" Ron asked when they passed the entrance hall. "Shall I take you to the hospital wing?"

"No, but..." Harry trailed. '_I won't be able to hide it from him, whatever it is_,' he mused and decided he'd probably need his friend's help anyway. "Can we sit on the stairs for a moment?" he suggested.

"Of course," Ron replied immediately, eyeing his friend in concern.

"Ever since I returned to the Dursleys, I haven't felt overly well, but since we came back here last night it seems to be worse. My limbs tickle..."

"Tickle?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yeah, they tickle, at least so far they did. Today, everything just hurts. I don't know why. Please don't tell Hermione about it."

Ron nodded in understanding. "Of course not, mate. She'd only fuss about you the whole time. It was strange today though, didn't you notice? She suddenly vanished, and then she was there again. I don't know." He shook his head in confusion. "All right then. Shall we go back to the common room? Maybe you should go to bed."

"Yeah," Harry replied miserably, sighing in relief when he sank into his bed twenty minutes later.

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'_This was extraordinary indeed. While Weasley was extremely audacious, Potter was surprisingly polite tonight. He didn't get too far with his work, but what he did was good in contrary to Weasley's work. There are still lingering potions blotches on the tables. What did Weasley say? The Dursleys treat Potter like a slave? I must have misheard that_.'

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Harry felt much better when he woke up in the morning. However, as his classes dragged on, his limbs that had only been tickly so far began to hurt again, and by the time their detention began, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed.

However, the professor motioned for them to immediately return to their work. "The tables are still dirty, and I expect the potions cabinet to be finished by curfew," he said coldly.

"I cleaned the tables yesterday," Ron protested immediately, looking up startled when Harry lightly kicked him and unobtrusively shook his head. "What?"

"All right, sir," Harry replied and pulled Ron with him. "Here, can you sort the ingredients alphabetically please? I'll do the tables when I'm finished here."

"Okay; sorry, mate, but I'm just not used to do Muggle cleaning," Ron replied and sat on the floor next to where Harry had placed the ingredients.

Harry knew that he had to hurry up if he wanted to finish the cupboard and the tables before curfew, but his arms felt so heavy that he every single move afforded a lot of energy. At the beginning of curfew, he had only barely finished cleaning out the cupboard and sat next to Ron, leaning against the wall in exhaustion.

"You all right, mate?" Ron asked in concern.

"Everything hurts," Harry whispered, "but we have to finish this today. You heard him." He shivered slightly as he scrambled up from the floor and began to put the ingredients that Ron had been sorting back on the shelves. "Oh yuck. No, they're too dirty. We have to clean the glasses and phials before we put them back," he decided, putting the first glasses back onto the floor. "Ron, can you politely ask Snape if we can continue tomorrow, please?"

"Yep." Ron stood up from the floor and after a look at Harry, taking in his sweaty face and slightly glazed over green eyes, headed towards the professor's office. "Sir, it's already curfew. Can we finish the cupboard tomorrow?"

"No, it's not my problem if you're too slow to finish your assignments in time. You'll continue now."

"If the work is too much, we can't finish it in time, and Harry isn't feeling well tonight."

"Mr. Potter is not the first student, who suddenly notices that he feels unwell when it comes to detention," Snape scoffed. "You will finish the cupboard tonight. You may continue cleaning the rest of the classroom tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ron asked in exasperation. "But we have Quidditch tryouts tomorrow."

"I don't care!" the professor shouted. "If Mr. Potter is so unwell, he shouldn't play Quidditch anyway, and you should have thought about the tryouts before you were so insolent in class. Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley."

"You can't..."

"Oh, I can, Mr. Weasley, but feel free to bother the Headmaster to enquire if I can," Snape interrupted him right away, quirking an eyebrow.

Ron shot the Potions Master an angry glare and returned to Harry's side. "The bastard says we have to finish here tonight," he said darkly.

"Okay," Harry said, sighing. He fetched a bucket with soap and two pieces of cloth, handing one to his friend. "Let's get on with it and clean these things."

"Wait a moment." Ron quickly reached for the hand that had lightly touched him as Harry handed him the cleaning utensils. It felt very warm to the touch. The boy hesitantly laid an ice-cold hand on Harry's forehead. "You're running a fever, mate. I'm going to get McGonagall. She'll help us get out of here."

"No Ron, I don't want anyone to know," Harry whispered urgently, but his friend didn't listen anymore.

Ron quickly headed towards the door, but before he could reach the nearby way to liberty he stumbled. Glancing around in confusion, he saw the Potions Master standing in the connecting door to his office with his wand trained on him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ron shouted angrily.

"Where do you think you're going, Weasley?"

"To get help. Harry is too unwell to continue cleaning here even after curfew."

Snape looked over to Harry, who was diligently cleaning the containers for the ingredients.

"In contrary to you, Mr. Potter seems to be meticulously doing his work. Go back to work immediately, if you don't want to receive another week of detention," the professor hissed, shooting the boy, who was still sitting on the floor, a menacing glare.

It was past midnight, when Harry and Ron finally finished the ingredients cupboard. '_I hope we won't have to clean the tables again tonight_,' Harry mused but didn't voice his concern to Ron. Instead, he stepped in front of the professor. "Sir, we finished the ingredients cupboard. May we please clean the rest of the classroom tomorrow?" He threw the teacher a pleading look from only slightly open glassy green eyes.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," Snape replied and handed him a note to show to any teacher that might catch the boys out in the halls so late.

Ron left the room behind Harry without even looking at the professor.

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'_It seems as if Potter was on the verge of falling ill. I wonder if Weasley will be able to clean the classroom on his own, if Potter is in the hospital wing tomorrow._'

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Harry dragged himself through the day; however, he felt worse than on the day before. '_Maybe I just need some more sleep_,' he thought and decided to skip Divination and History of Magic. Ron promised to wake him up after their last class, so they could do their homework before dinner.

'_Somehow, this seems to be getting worse by the day_,' Harry realised as he trailed along with Ron to the dungeons. In spite of the warm jumper he was wearing under his robes he felt cold, and he had to hold on to the wall twice when bouts of dizziness overcame him.

"Harry, let me take you to the hospital wing. You'll be exempt from detention," Ron said, observing him in concern.

"No Ron, I'll be fine. I don't know what it is, but it's only like this in the evenings. In the morning, I feel fine. We only have three more evenings of detention left, and then it's the weekend anyway."

"Do you think we won't have detention on the weekend?" Ron queried in surprise. "Detention from hell surely won't stop on Saturdays and Sundays."

Harry groaned, shivering as they slowly continued their walk.

"Five minutes late. Fifty points from Gryffindor," Snape informed them curtly. "Clean the potions classroom."

"Professor, that's unfair," Ron hissed. "Harry was dizzy, so we had to stop twice. The lack of sleep because of your detentions is making him sick."

Snape snorted. "Mr. Weasley, don't try my intelligence. If Mr. Potter is sick, he should go to the hospital wing, but being sick due to lack of sleep because of detentions is the stupidest excuse I've ever heard." He unobtrusively threw Harry a piercing look.

"I'm sorry sir; it's fine," Harry mumbled quickly. He placed his wand on the professor's desk and headed into the classroom, eager to begin and consequently finish his work as soon as possible.

"You're really irresponsible. I wonder how Dumbledore could make you Head of House," Ron said angrily, glaring at the Potions Master, who quirked an eyebrow.

"Ten points off Gryffindor for your insolence. If you're finished insulting me, you might want to explain what you intend to imply, Weasley."

"Can't you see that Harry is unwell? Instead of making him serve more detentions, you should send him to the hospital wing. He'll never go out of his free will. His relatives taught him to hide it if he felt sick."

"Weasley, I am neither your Head of House nor for any other reason responsible for Potter's well being," Snape replied coldly. "As far as I've been watching the two of you, he takes his detentions much more serious than you, Weasley. I'm afraid I have to teach you how to serve detention. Good that we still have the whole school year." He glanced at his wrist watch. "Ten more points from Gryffindor. I suggest that you set to work soon. Give me your wand."

By curfew, Harry and Ron had finished cleaning the classroom. Even if Ron wasn't much of a help, Harry felt strangely consoled by his friend's company.

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'_I wonder what's wrong with Potter. Tomorrow, I'm going to keep him here under observation. As concerns Weasley, I should consider a potion that involves frog eggs and rat liver for the NEWT class on Friday_.'

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"Mr. Weasley, you will scrub the cauldrons in the sink over there and afterwards prepare the ingredients according to the recipe that is laid out on the work table. Mr. Potter you will sit here and write this sentence one hundred times."

"Why do I have to scrub cauldrons, while Harry only has to write lines?" Ron queried in his usual upset tone.

"Because I say so," Snape replied in a dangerously quiet voice.

"Professor, I think I'm much more used to cleaning things. May I help Ron and then write my lines, while he prepares the ingredients?" Harry asked shyly. In spite of being utterly relieved to be able to sit down and only have to write lines, he couldn't stand the infinite fights between Ron and the professor anymore. '_My head hurts too badly to listen to that all the time_.'

"Both of you will do as you are told. Do you understand me?" Snape replied in a very clear voice and sat behind his desk.

Harry threw Ron an apologetic look and took the offered seat, glancing at the parchment in front of him. There was one sentence written on the top. '_Covering up for others won't help them but spoil them even more_.'

'_Ha? What does that mean?_' Harry thought in confusion, throwing the professor a questioning look. However, the man seemed to be engrossed in the parchments before him, and Harry set to work, sighing inwardly.

Hearing the boy's quill scratch over the parchment, Snape looked up, smirking, before he turned his eyes back to the top parchment in front of him and continued decorating it with red ink.

Harry inwardly sighed in relief as he felt the teacher's eyes turn away again and continued his writing, noticing that his right arm began to hurt badly. '_One hundred times?_' he thought, exasperated. '_And I've only managed ten times so far_.'

"Potter!" the professor's voice brought Harry back to reality. "Your handwriting is atrocious!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry whispered and slowly wrote the next sentence, being very careful to use his best handwriting. Nevertheless, he couldn't prevent himself from being scolded by the professor again when he was nearly finished with his sentences.

"Potter! Look at your writing. Can you try to write properly? Do you need a parchment with lines like a six-year-old?"

"I'm sorry sir," Harry apologized, forcefully rubbing his eyes. '_If I wasn't so dizzy, I probably could see what and where I'm writing_,' he thought returned to his writing, just when a huge crash could be heard from the classroom.

"That lazy dunderhead," Snape mumbled as he strode into the classroom, and Harry heard him shout at his friend.

Harry tried to ignore the voices that became louder and louder. He only looked up again when Snape and Ron stepped to the table that was right behind the door to the classroom.

"I'll teach you how to scrub cauldrons tomorrow, Weasley," Snape scoffed.

"I don't see any sense in it. You could just do it with magic within seconds, but the sadistic tyrant you are..."

"Shut up, Weasley, if you don't want to end up in detention for the rest of the school year!"

Ron mumbled something about "Detentions from hell," before he looked at the ingredients the professor had laid out on the table for him. "Frog eggs? Rats liver?" he realised in disgust.

"Exactly Weasley," Snape sneered and returned to his seat behind his desk, unobtrusively pointing his wand at Harry's head.

"Mr. Potter, you're dismissed," he said unexpectedly and in a voice that held no malice.

Harry looked up in surprise. "Shall I help Ron prepare the ingredients?" he asked quietly.

"No Mr. Potter. You will go straight to bed." He fetched a phial from his shelf and handed it to Harry. "Drink this when you're in bed," he ordered him.

"Harry, be careful. He might try to poison you," Ron threw in urgently, causing the professor to roll his eyes.

Harry wearily eyed the phial that was unlabeled. "Thank you, sir," he said politely and took his wand back from the professor, before he slowly returned to his dormitory, feeling extremely grateful that Snape had released him earlier. '_It's not even curfew yet_,' he mused as he scrambled into bed and quickly downed the potion, already drifting off to sleep as soon as he had placed the empty phial on his night table.

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'_Why doesn't he go to seek Madam Pomfrey's help when he is so clearly sick? Wouldn't he like the fussing? And I wonder when Minerva is going to notice that he is under the weather. She is his Head of House after all. Considering the fever he was running this is neither just a little cold nor simple fatigue_.'

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In the morning, Ron and Neville were not able to wake up Harry and ended up being late for Transfiguration.

"Sorry Professor, but we couldn't wake up Harry," Ron told his Head of House when he and Neville quickly took their seats.

"I'll go and wake him up after the class," McGonagall replied sternly and continued with the explanation she was just giving the students.

Harry woke up as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes, noticing that he felt much better than the evening before and that his Head of House was leaning over him. "Professor?" he asked wearily.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Your first class is just over," McGonagall said sternly. "Messrs. Weasley and Longbottom were unable to wake you up earlier."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry said, terrified, and admitted in a small voice, "I somehow wasn't feeling well last night, and Professor Snape gave me a potion that apparently made me sleep so long."

"Are you feeling better now?" McGonagall asked, taking in the dark rings under Harry's eyes and his flushed cheeks.

"Yes Professor, much better," Harry replied and unconsciously rubbed his forehead, yawning.

"I'm not sure," the teacher said, carefully feeling his forehead. "You don't seem very well to me, Harry. Stay in bed until lunchtime, and if you don't feel better by then, please go to the hospital wing for a check-up. I'll inform your teachers accordingly."

"All right, thank you, Professor," Harry replied gratefully, closing his eyes in relief.

Harry wearily attended his afternoon classes; however, by the time he had to leave for his detention in the dungeons, he felt so ill that he considered for the first time going to the hospital wing instead. '_Oh well, tomorrow is Saturday, and I can still go to see Madam Pomfrey in the morning_,' he finally decided, '_better not upset Snape by missing detention_.'

"Two minutes late," the professor hissed as they stepped into his office.

"What did you do to Harry?" Ron hissed back. "Due to whatever potion you slipped him, he missed all of his morning classes including breakfast and lunch."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said in a small voice, handing the empty phial back. "It really helped, sir."

"Mr. Potter, sit down and begin writing the sentence on the parchment one hundred times in readable handwriting. Mr. Weasley, I'll show you how to scrub cauldrons," Snape said sternly and strode ahead into the classroom.

Harry gratefully sat at the desk and glanced at the parchment. '_If I need help, I'll seek it_,' was written in the professor's delicate handwriting. Inwardly groaning, Harry set to work, inefficiently trying to tune out the voices and sounds that could be heard from the classroom.

"Weasley, get a grip on yourself!"

"I'm not a house-elf!"

"You're in detention and will do as I say!"

"Why? You could just clean them with magic!"

"That's not the point! This is a detention."

"Detention from hell. Thank you very much!"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your insolence, and if your behaviour continues, I'm inclined to contact your parents. I'm sure they won't appreciate you losing more points from your House than Gryffindor has been able to earn yet."

Ron groaned. "You're an evil git. No wonder everyone hates the Slytherins."

"No shut up, Weasley, and set to work. Your behaviour is worse than Potter's."

"Why does Harry only have to write lines and I have to clean cauldrons again today?"

"Because Potter obviously knows how to clean in contrary to you, Mr. Weasley. By the way, you'll write lines tomorrow as well."

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday. We won't serve detention on the weekend."

"Oh, believe me, you will."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Ron mumbled something like "Stupid git."

"Congratulations, Mr. Weasley. You just earned yourself another week of detention," Snape replied coolly.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I'll go and see the Headmaster."

"Be my guest," the professor sneered and returned to his office to see if Harry was writing his sentences.

Ron rolled his eyes and continued cleaning the cauldrons, knowing that the Headmaster would surely support the Potions Master.

Harry sighed in relief as the fight stopped and continued to carefully write his lines. Once more he finished his task earlier than Ron. "Professor," he addressed the man in a small voice, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. May I go and help Ron?"

Snape glanced at the boy in front of him. "No." Pulling the parchment over, he sighed. "Mr. Potter, the first part is all right, but in the second half your lines are going up and down again as if you had your eyes closed when you were writing. Oh well," he sighed, "we're going to practise writing again tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Harry replied quietly. "I'm sorry, sir."

"You're dismissed, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, handing the boy another phial, which Harry gratefully slid into his robe pocket.

Like the evening before, Harry gulped down the potion, noticing that he felt better instantly, before he already drifted off to sleep.

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'_Weasley is really insufferable. Next week, he can serve his detention with Filch. However, I still need to assign Potter more detention. I hope he'll give me a reason tomorrow; otherwise, I'll have to think of something_.'

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Harry slept through until the early afternoon. However, instead of being fully awake and refreshed, he felt miserable. His whole body was sore, he had a splitting headache, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. '_This is worse than it was ever before_,' he mused as he sat up, only to notice that colourful stars began to cloud his vision.

He let himself sink back and closed his eyes, only to open them again, startled, when he felt a cold hand on his forehead.

"Harry, you're burning up," Hermione's voice penetrated his mind. "Shall I fetch Professor McGonagall?"

"No, it's all right," Harry replied wearily. "I'll just rest until my detention, and if I don't feel better by tomorrow, I'll go to the hospital wing."

"Harry, that's stupid. You don't have to attend detention, if you're running a fever, which you clearly do. It can be the flu or something that could get really bad if you neglect it."

Harry sighed. "Mione, it's all right. It's not the flu. I've had these problems since the beginning of the summer holidays. Tonight is my last detention, and I'm not going to miss it. Oh no, tomorrow is the last," he added thoughtfully.

Harry spent the whole afternoon in bed, torn between annoyance and appreciation that Ron and Hermione remained at his side, talking or quietly studying all the time. Only in time for dinner, he slowly dragged himself out of bed and gradually made his way down to the dungeons, carefully holding on to the walls in an attempt to fight the dizziness that was bothering him more than ever before.

Ron and Hermione attended dinner in the Great Hall, and when Ron walked towards the dungeons to catch up with Harry in time for their detention, Hermione quietly addressed her Head of House to share her concern about Harry.

"Potter, Weasley, sit down and write your sentences one hundred times each," Snape instructed the two boys, throwing them a sharp look.

'_If I am ill, I will tell someone and stay in bed_,' Harry read, groaning inwardly as he quickly set to work.

Ron glared at the parchment in front of him. '_I will respect my superiors and do as I am told_.' "Such rubbish," he mumbled, more to himself but still loud enough for the professor to hear.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasely."

Harry wearily reached out for Ron's hand and unobtrusively shook his head, mouthing, "Just do it."

"Blimey, Harry, Hermione was right, you're burning up," Ron whispered, causing the professor to shoot them a sharp look.

"Mr. Potter..."

"It's all right, sir; I'm fine," Harry quickly interrupted the professor and hurriedly continued writing his sentences.

For a while, the office remained quiet as the three wizards concentrated on their task ahead, before Ron suddenly let out a huge gasp and shouted, "Harry!"

Snape looked at the younger boy, who was slumped in his seat, unconscious, with his head on his parchment and his face covered with ink blotches. He stepped around his desk and carefully felt the boy's forehead, ready to scoop the child up in his arms, just when they heard a knock at the door and Professor McGonagall entered the office, followed closely by Hermione.

"What happened?" the Scottish lioness asked in concern, causing the Potions Master to throw her a questioning look.

"You are his Head of House and should have sent him to Poppy a long time ago. Mr. Potter is ill, probably with the flu or something."

"No sir," Hermione interrupted the professor. "It can't be the flu or something like that. He told me that he has been having problems since he returned to the Dursleys after the last school year. He said at first his body had been tickly, but over the time it began to hurt, especially after he returned to Hogwarts."

Snape's expression had turned into concern as he suggested, "In that case, let's take him to my guest room for the time being. Minerva, please call Poppy."

The Mediwitch and the Potions Master spent the following few hours checking on Harry, before they finally found out that he was suffering from basilisk poisoning. A small amount of the basilisk poison had remained in his blood, when the basilisk bit him at the end of his second year, and it was slowly poisoning his whole body.

"I need to brew a potion to stop the poisoning spread even more," Snape explained to his colleague and the students, his face schooled to a blank mask. "Ms. Granger, would you be willing to assist and prepare the ingredients for me?"

"Of course, sir," Hermione readily agreed.

"However, it'll take at least two months until the poison that is already spread in his body will be completely eliminated," Snape continued in a grave voice.

"Severus, I suggest that Harry remains in your guest room until he is completely back to health," the Headmaster, whom McGonagall had summoned earlier, threw in thoughtfully.

"Very well," Snape replied. "Mr. Weasley, from tomorrow onwards, you'll serve your remaining eight detentions with Mr. Filch."

With that, Snape and Hermione retired to the Potions Master's private lab, the Headmaster and Ron left his quarters, and McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey sat around a small table in the guest room to have tea together and keep an eye on the still unconscious student.

HP HEALER POMFREY HP

'_Thank God we noticed what was wrong with the boy today. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it long. Now he's going to stay in my quarters for two months, so I'll be able to keep an eye on him without having to assign him detention. It's strange how the Headmaster always gets his will.'_

Snape slowly took a sip from his tea as he watched the boy sleep peacefully._ 'Oh well, better Potter than Weasley. I agree with Weasley: Having him in detention for a week is indeed having detentions from hell. Potter is at least polite and follows rules, very unlike his father. I must have been very wrong about him, but now I'll have time enough to get to know him better, which is good; after all, he's Lily's son as well_.'

**The End.**

_

* * *

Another oneshot, which I wrote this morning in one go. I hope there aren't too many mistakes. As you know, I'm not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes or help me to correct them._

_I hope to be able to continue my other stories soon. Please be patient; I won't abandon any of them.  
_

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._


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